As Dorothea looks at me, very non-committally, just like the previous three times that day, I cannot help but wonder if it will ever change. There’s obviously something there, otherwise she wouldn’t repeatedly focus on me, even though each instance is only for a split second, as if she is simply using me, perusing me for her particular pleasure, and then turning away swiftly, to tease me.
I watch her go about her business day in and day out, admiring her slender waist, and the marvellous curves of her magnificent hips, even if she does wear a very unflattering smock or apron-type garment most days. Her calves are more beautiful than the most ornate marble legs of any piece of furniture ever created. And her hair is lush and full of life as it shines and bounces whilst she darts around in full view.
It’s always most painful when Steve enters, like clockwork, every afternoon and wraps his arms around her and kisses her.
Her lack of consideration for me, her reliable kitchen wall clock, drives me insane!